Collapse
by Blackmoondragon1415
Summary: A sort of bridge between the third and first movies. Draco watches the idyllic peace fall steadily into chaos, and the collapse of his world around him.


A/N: This is something I've had cooking since around when the third movie came out. It kind of works on it's own and as a precursor to another idea that I've been having. Especially given when you think about how the third movie ended and how the first one begins, a fair amount of things had to go wrong in between.

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He's not quite sure when the transition happened. As an adult, he would assume that if his mentor had heard anything about internal trouble with the humans, he had kept it well away from them. It was First-Hatched who noticed that the human visitors they usually saw came less, and looked more careworn when they did. Humans aged faster, they were always taught, but this burden was not the same as aging. They were certainly not hatchlings anymore, with he and her moved on to their own cave, but that didn't stop them from communicating. And while their mentor didn't share precisely the details of what was beginning to happen at and around the Dragon's Gate, they all eventually found out in a sudden snap during the spring, when the Gate was suddenly attacked by a warlord to the south. Drago had rushed off immediately to help his aging human friends, and many of his grown charges had come barreling in to help once the smell of smoke and sounds of screams had reached their nearby homes. He had been one of them.

He recalled that that might have very well been the first time that he had seen those dreaded lances, the ones used for snaring dragons on the fly. He might not have seen them fly from the hills the attackers had set them up on, but the images stood stark in his mind of the wooden shafts stuck through scales and wings, dragging their owners to the ground.

Dragon's Gate had fallen that day, the few knights present overwhelmed by the force and fury of the invaders. Among them had been Sir Gareth, though his mentor had managed to carry his friend from the battle before, drained by wounds incurred on the heart and body, he too began to fall. He had arrived right as the elder dragon was taking his last breath, with the life leaving his eyes as his body settled into a relaxed stillness that looked too peaceful for what had just occurred. It is burned into his mind, staring down at the completely different forms, feeling like he may have stopped breathing too for just a moment, and even as a few of his fellows keened their goodbyes all he could remember feeling was numb, like the stone under their feet, and bone-achingly tired.

It would be only a few weeks later when he and her learned that eggs were on the way, process and life itself unchanged by the events of that long year. Ordinarily joyous, there was an undercurrent of anxiety and tension to the preparations, and he could feel the dread twisting knots in his stomach, especially at night when it was just him, and he couldn't help but wonder from time to time if he was doing the right thing, maybe in his more desperate moments trying to picture his mentor in his mind, try to imagine the rough and yet gentle nature, what would he say?

Every time he tries, the question keeps coming, am I doing the right thing, and never gets an answer. At least two of his fellows die before the year is out and the thoughts loom even more, shadowing their lives as they move to another cave, hoping to be far enough out of the way to avoid being found.

The arrival of the eggs is a balm, and he gently noses at the warm shells as they lay in the makeshift nest the following evening. He can definitely feel the fire and life pulsating in each orb, a miracle that both awes and drives him to rare elation with the realization: he is going to be a father. She too is eager for the scraping of small claws about their cave, and while both could say they harbored thoughts of parenthood there is also an equal layer of fierce protection coming from both. Not spoken on or noted, but there and present all the same. He changes his hunting habits, keeping close and using night to his advantage to keep their cave hidden, and she keeps vigil by their unborn young. It wears, though moments spent together still hold a fervor to the days to come, where they can raise their children in peace. He feels it will be a way to make things right, to somehow emulate their mentor and to carry that on even when he is no longer present to witness it. It took the sting out of the losses of both the past and what came later, with the loss of another of their number, as well as the six eggs that he and his mate had laid earlier in the year. The female still lived, though with their own eggs on the line they did not dare try to reach out; every bit of secrecy counted if they did not want the same to happen to them.

When he thought on the preparations they had made, after the fact, he could only feel the emptiness he had felt when their mentor died.

It had been only a few weeks into their measures, he had come back within range of their cave to smell the scent of horses and the armor and leather of men, doubling his wingbeats to make it there in time, and still only arriving scant moments too late. Every one of their clutch had, on some instinctual level, known what the sound of a hatchling's fire overwhelming them inside the egg was. The screams and shouts of both human and draconic creatures in pain provided a ringing chorus in the wake of the combustion, he had seen the humans, those that survived and could walk, ambling away from the wreck. One, with the livery of a chief and gold adorning his head, tried to make a stand, slicing at his front limbs even as he swung to SEND IT AWAY. The pain felt paltry in the face of his mate, forearms burnt and bleeding heavily, weakly clutching at a lone egg that managed to avoid destruction, voice weak and broken and she tried to proclaim, 'see, my love, I…I saved him...I-I saved him…'….

He had been the one to keep their son, the pair having to separate for their own safety. Squirreling the egg away in his cave had not been what he would have wanted for their child but… he had done his best… tried to, at any rate. Maybe if he repeated it enough…

…He had long since stopped asking what his mentor might have done. The time for the illusions and simplicity of hatchling-hood had long since passed, and even heroes could have their mettle tarnished with time. The elder had not been invincible, and much like him, had been merely trying to keep his own dream, the Dragon's Gate and the light that had been invested in it, alive. He had been trying to do the same for his family, though neither really came to fruition, despite the best efforts of all involved. And now there were larger concerns, it seemed. He had become less interested in living and more in the act of dying, as the years went on and the hum of the other dragons dwindled to bare dregs of what it had been. He had hid the egg more carefully, keeping to the security of the darkness and the shadows as he tried to eke out what remained of a living for him in isolation.

He was not always able to be careful. Humans grew better and better at tracking his kind no matter how wary they were, and he was hardly spared from the occasional close call. While some of the errant warriors that he had been forced to deal with were middling in their skills and tactics, there were some that came unnervingly close. Another king had tried to kill him in the years immediately following his newfound distance, a man with the same circlet of gold ringing his helmet that he had seen…with his mate and what remained of their hatchlings. He had almost been too slow, shock and memories staying his claws and leaving an opening for the ruthless tyrant to take. One of his talons had been cleanly cut, taken as a trophy once he had retreated from the king and his warriors he presumed. Impassively he had stemmed the blood, keeping an eye on it for the next few nights, and moving again with the egg in tow. Rhythmic, but numbing; he'd barely stopped to admire the sky and its stars in the few hours that he had been anywhere that wasn't a cave.

When he realized this, it was like something broke. It took a while for him to gain the energy to move the night following; he had spent a long, long time simply staring in the direction of the cave that he knew the egg was hidden in. For what seemed like an agonizingly long time, it seemed as though there was no point. Even with the unborn dragon in his care, he had no desire to try to take care of himself any longer. Everything familiar and good in his life, apart from that egg, was gone. His mentor, his mate, his family, all were gone to the abyss or the stars. It was just the egg and him, a small life as of yet untouched by this poisonous, empty place the world had become. He, on the other hand, was rotten with it. Part of him fleetingly wanted to get up and scream, to smash and break something, but the rest felt empty. The world would keep turning if he died, just as it did when his mentor passed. And after the rest. It still turned now, even as it fell apart around him.

For a while, it felt hard to hold on, to remember that he too was a part of the world and that he needed to do things like eat and sleep. The egg made it easier to focus, after all, he couldn't care for it if he was falling down due to exhaustion. If it was for the egg, he could get up in the night, hunt, check around for danger, and most importantly, make sure the egg and the young life inside were still comfortable and warm. And, above all, safe. This was the last piece, the only thing left. Even if the rest fell down, he could still keep a small nugget of hope in this unborn life.

He just had to keep this one being intact. He had to keep them safe.


End file.
